


all my good intentions

by minirovks



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Army, Asian Jade Harley, Child Neglect, Chinese Jade Harley, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guns, Helicopters, Minor Character Death, POV Jade Harley, Pre-Canon, Pre-Sburb (Homestuck), Pre-Sburb/Sgrub, Taxidermy, Trans Female Jade Harley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minirovks/pseuds/minirovks
Summary: TG:your grandpa is full of shit probablyGG:why would you say that? :(TG:because thats literally such a bullshit storyTG:hes probably a criminal or somethingTG:on the run from the law cant be evadedTG:debt going up fast like an elevadaorShe'd always idolized her grandfather, but maybe for the wrong reasons.
Relationships: Grandpa Harley | Beta Jake English & Jade Harley, Jade Harley & Dave Strider, Jade Harley & Rose Lalonde, John Egbert & Jade Harley, John Egbert & Jade Harley & Rose Lalonde & Dave Strider
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	all my good intentions

**Author's Note:**

> quick warning before you start in case you didn't read the tags - in the beginning of this fic there's somewhat lengthy discussion of guns and the military. if you want to skip that, it starts after "she didn't have a name besides it" and ends at "'it's not about the - shhh!'" i swear i do not know that much about guns normally!! this is all from wikipedia. also it does end with someone dying in an air vehicle crash, but it's not super graphic.
> 
> anyway i am but a wee chinese lad who enjoys projecting onto his comfort characters so uhhhhhhh get rekt!! tumblr is @minirovks or @letjadeharleysayfuck :))

One’s greatest gift in life, her grandfather often reminded her, was that of family, and as such, her birthday gift was his return to the island. Becquerel, her dog, and she, seated comfortably on his back, trotted along behind him. Pistol in hand, he made his way through the tall golden-green grass swaying around his calves. Everything about his gait was casual except his bright pupils, darting around like fireflies as he searched for a target.

No cigar. He, she, and Becquerel were the only life in sight. Still, he cocked his head to one side and held the gun out, squinting through the sights. “ _Jie jie_ ,” he called back to get her attention—an affectionate name for the oldest (in her case, the only) daughter of a family. She didn’t have a name besides it. They slowed to a stop beside him, and he raised his gun with the muzzle to the sky. “This is a QX-04. It’s a semi-automatic pistol with a multi-caliber cartridge. Used in the police force—and, of course, the military.” He patted it fondly like a pet as he slid it into its holster, chuckling more to himself than to her as he recounted the details. “This here’s been with me since my early days in the army, fifty-nine or so, since day one. Good old friend. Took the shot and didn’t look back.”

She, a child who had no clue what any of that meant despite having heard the exact same spiel upwards of a dozen times, nodded and smiled at the back of his head.

“‘Course, it’s more’n effective for the thrill of the hunt too,” he added after a moment of silence, pulling it back out and spinning it around his index finger. “It’s not about the— _shhh!_ ” He clapped a hand over her mouth. Becquerel squeaked and stumbled into a stop.

His eyes lit up. “ _Bingo_.” Sprightly as ever despite his old age, he bounded over to the side of a hill, pulling the other two along with him. “See that?” When she shook her head no, he _tsk_ ’d. “That, right there. _Cong cong_ ,” he whispered, a mix of excited and conspiratorial some might find strange. She would admit herself she didn’t really know how a cute little thing like the butterfly fluttering around on the other side of the hill could possibly be as deadly an opponent as he made it out to be, but that was kind of his specialty. He made everything into an adventure, for better or worse. With practiced caution, he raised the pistol up to eye level. According to himself, he’d been something of a “sharpshooting sniper” in the army, two more words she didn’t exactly understand. Whatever they meant, this was enthralling. She couldn’t break her gaze from the precision of his aim, as one-minded and perfect and cold as a computer.

Just as he’d locked in place, about to shoot, Becquerel pulled her away from the hillside. “Hm?” she muttered, dazed. She scratched Becquerel’s neck curiously. Silly dog. She wanted to remind him that Grandpa was back there, not wherever Bec was taking them, but something in the back of her mind told her not to fight it. That this was how it was supposed to be, somehow. So she didn’t. Behind them, the shot was fired. She wondered distantly whether it had hit.

They cantered on for a while, the rolling, painting-perfect landscape passing on in the background, until Becquerel lowered himself to the ground at the apex of another hill. She slid down, taking in the view. It was nice, the blue, blue sky even clearer, if that were possible, from this altitude, peonies and gerbera daisies blooming around her feet in every shade of orange (she made sure to step over and not on them). Still, she couldn’t see what was so special about this specific—

Oh! There it was. Seemingly out of thin air, a blue box materialized and dropped to the ground. She picked it up—there was a very nice letter attached to the lid, addressed to someone called Jade from someone called John? Hm. She turned back to Becquerel. “Are you sure these are for me?”

He stared back blankly, as he always did (come to think of it, she supposed he didn’t have much of a face), but it was an encouraging kind of blankness. The same feeling tugged at her again—that she was supposed to open it. She looked back at the letter, frowning. As much as she felt sorry for this Jade girl, she knew opening it was the right thing to do.

Pumpkin seeds—interesting! She could plant them later, she thought, picturing full fruits hanging off the vine, ripe enough to come off with a gentle tug. Maybe she could have a birthday pumpkin pie. Her grandfather might not be on the island long enough to try it, but then again, maybe the promise of dessert would be enough incentive for him to stick around a bit longer. Besides that, there was a graphic tee with a picture of a little blobby blue fellow. It was far too large for her, but no matter—she could always tailor it.

Tucking the gifts back in the box, she swiveled back to face Becquerel, who stared back like he always did. Nevertheless, she beamed broadly. She didn’t know who John was, or Jade, or either of the other two kids mentioned in the letter, or how they knew each other, but this felt _right_ , like it was meant to happen. Either way, John seemed like a nice boy. Maybe if she played her cards right, she could meet him sometime and pass on an apology to Jade. Maybe they could be friends.

Her grin widened at the thought, then shrunk back. _Right_. This was a deserted island—keyword _deserted_. She and her grandfather were the only two people who even knew where it was or that it existed, and it wasn’t as if she could leave. She was allowed many luxuries, military-grade weaponry and high-tech transportalizers and a guardian dog only a few examples, but friends weren’t included among them.

She shook her head. If nothing else, she could at least appreciate her new stuff. With her grandfather and pumpkin seeds and a cool shirt, this was still by far the best birthday she’d ever had. Pushing all the unexplained details and melancholy aside, she hopped back onto Becquerel’s back and patted his head. “C’mon, boy. Let’s go home.” 

When they got back, her grandfather was slumped over on a tree stump, examining the pistol with great scrutiny. “Did you get it?” she asked. 

Her stomach dropped when he looked up. His face was smeared with dirt and blood all the way down to his neck, covered with a network of thread-thin scratches already scabbed over. He shook his head, scoffing, and gave the pistol a curdling scowl. “I chased it for a while, but no luck.” 

~ 

**turntechGodhead [TG]** opened memo on board **COOL KIDZ INCORPORATED**.  
**TG:** yo  
**TG:** yo gnostic  
**TG:** gnosty  
**TG:** fuckin rotting garbage gnasty downright fascist wish you were fancy cant even get down dancy  
**GG:** hi dave!! how are your “sick beatz” coming along? :)  
**TG:** i was actually gonna ask about that  
**TG:** if you play an instrument could you send me like a sample recording so i can remix it  
**TG:** i already know john and rose are unmusical losers  
**GT:** i play piano, dude.  
**TG:** i meant a cool instrument  
**GT:** hey, piano is cool...  
**TG:** anyway point is they dont have flow  
**TG:** but im drowning in mine all the fuckin time  
**TG:** round the clock aim that glock pull the trigger shoot your  
**TG:** uh  
**TG:** shot  
**TG:** uh  
**GG:** i dont know what you’re saying, but i do have a bass!! my grandpa got it for me on his last trip!!  
**GG:** and he just left on another one!! so maybe i’ll have something else too when he comes back :D  
**TG:** epic send me the files when youre done  
**GT:** wait, wasn’t your grandpa just on a trip?  
**GG:** yeah!! thats when i got my bass!! :)  
**GT:** does he just leave all the time? that doesn’t sound very normal.  
**GG:** yeah i guess…  
**GG:** but thats just how he is!! hes a very important man and he has a lot of important military business to attend to on the mainland  
**GG:** hes a war hero!! and all heroes are busy  
**GT:** still, it doesn’t seem like he should be gone all the time…  
**TG:** thats just how parents are bro  
**TG:** anyway gnost i didnt know your grandpa was famous  
**GG:** yeah he is!! he wiped out a whole fleet of pirate ships once by himself!!  
**TG:** what  
**TG:** when  
**GG:** um well i dont really know!! it just happened sometime, i can probably ask him if you want to know :)  
**TT:** In which war?  
**GG:** there are different ones?  
**TG:** …  
**TT:** Yes, Gnostic, there are separate wars.  
**GG:** oh  
**GG:** well i dont know, probably the one thats happening right now  
**TG:** which one  
**GG:** there’s more than one war right now? :(  
**TT:** Are you sure your grandpa is a war hero?  
**GG:** yes!! plus he gets lots of stuff from the government, like a helicopter that used to be in the army but then he painted over it so you cant really tell anymore  
**TG:** your grandpa is full of shit probably  
**GG:** why would you say that? :(  
**TG:** because thats literally such a bullshit story  
**TG:** hes probably a criminal or something  
**TG:** on the run from the law cant be evaded  
**TG:** debt going up fast like an elevada  
**TT:** This does sound unusual. Maybe you should talk to your grandfather to see if you can clear things up.  
**GG:** i dont know what you guys are talking about!! why would he lie?  
**TT:** I don’t think it would be especially beneficial for me to discuss them in depth, but a lot of reasons. 

~ 

The whipping and whirring of helicopter blades sounded distantly from out the window just as she had pulled out her bass—another souvenir from her grandfather’s adventures—to practice. She almost dropped it in her excitement, but caught herself in time. _This was a_ gift, she chided herself. It would be a shame to ruin it. She placed it gingerly on her bed, hopped onto the transportalizer, and out the front door in the nick of time to watch him descend. 

The helicopter, cricket-green with bright gold racing stripes blazing across the sides, was a token of the military’s affection, granted to him after he’d single-handedly wiped out half the U.S.’s foot soldiers. It hovered in the sky briefly before swooping down in a hawk-like nose dive—if the hawk in question was getting on in years and didn’t have such great vision anymore and also did not know how to operate a helicopter quite well enough not to stumble all the way down. She winced. It was cool anyway, though! A helicopter was a helicopter. And regardless of what the other kids thought, her grandfather was still awesome, kicking ass and taking names. Why would he lie? 

The machine _plunk_ ’d to the ground clumsily and he stepped out. “Tally ho!” he called. 

In her head, she’d been picturing him tossing a rope out the side door and scaling his way down in true adventurer fashion, but the twinge of confusion and disappointment she felt was quickly forgotten when she ran up to hug him. “Grandpa!" 

He patted her on the shoulder, then stepped back. 

“I just figured out how the pumpkins work”—apparently plants didn’t grow instantaneously, who knew?—“so I started using the atrium to garden a little bit. I hope that’s okay!” She lowered her voice a little on the next proposition. “There are a lot of them, a dozen-ish, so I thought maybe we could sit down and...bake something together? Like a pumpkin pie. I found a recipe, so…" 

He folded his hands behind his back and looked away from her at the walls. _Oh._ Okay. That was cool too. 

It was understandable, though! The walls of this hallway were lined with old photographs of him. There he was kneeling to snipe some faraway, foreign enemy across the field of battle, grinning at the camera with his arms around the other soldiers, using the medical workers’ bandages to dress as a mummy, even. All his travels and his adventurous spirit were hard not to admire, she supposed. She couldn’t keep a small frown from pervading her face for a moment, but she glossed it over with her usual cheerful expression and stared up at the wall with him. 

After a few minutes, he nodded to himself in satisfaction and turned back to her. “So, what was it you’ve been up to?” 

He placed both hands on his hips, and something caught her eye—a faint green glint under the cuff of one sleeve. She squinted, tilting her head to one side. He hadn’t had that when he left, she didn’t think. “What is it?” 

He grinned, rolling up the sleeve to show off the bracelet around his wrist. It was made of some kind of milky green stone, shot through with white and lighter shades of sea foam, and polished around the rim to softly rounded edges. “This, _jie jie_ , is _yu_." 

She reached out to touch it, but he placed his hand back on his hip, pulling away before she could, and continued. “It’s an important part of our culture,” he continued. “One of the most important gods is Yu Huang, who brings light and peace to all creatures, and the yu stone does the same.” He flicked his wrist again, sending the bracelet spinning around his wrist like the rings around Saturn briefly. “Wearing this is like wearing a rabbit’s foot or a four-leaf clover. It’s a good luck charm. As long as I have this”—he lowered himself to eye level with her, tapping the stone lightly—“prosperity and fortune are sure to come our way.” 

Not his way— _our_ way. Hope flooded her body. “Should I have something like that, then? For when you’re gone?” 

He laughed and stood back up, straightening his ragged bomber jacket. “For what? So your pumpkins will grow?” 

“I mean,” she sputtered. “Something else could happen that would be way more dangerous and adventurous and heroic than that! But it can’t hurt, right? The pumpkins could use some luck, just to help, and I could—" 

He laughed again. _I could use some help, too_ died in the back of her throat. “I know I don’t go out and do the stuff you do,” she said quietly, “but it could be nice. We could match.” 

_~_

**gardenGnostic [GG]** began pestering **tentacleTherapist [TT]**.  
**GG:** hey rose?  
**TT:** Hi, Gnostic.  
**GG:** why were you saying all the stuff you were saying before?  
**TT:** You mean on the message board?  
**TT:** I’m sincerely sorry if I said anything hurtful. I definitely don’t know enough about your grandfather to come to the conclusions that I did, and while the things you were saying warranted some suspicion, I did jump to make some assumptions. That’s on me.  
**GG:** i was actually going to ask why you thought he might be  
**GG:** you know  
**GG:** lying  
**TT:** Ah, I see.  
**TT:** Here’s my perspective: you have always ardently praised his alleged achievements and defended him endlessly in arguments. Have you considered that perhaps it’s a power trip to him fueled by his conceit?  
**GG:** what do you mean?  
**TT:** Well, along with being your guardian, he is the only other human you have ever had real-life contact with, so he obviously has great power over you already, but maybe he feels the need to use you because the same is true for him. If he isn’t what he says he is, he’s just as isolated as you, and you’re a very convenient way to boost his ego.  
**GG:** oh.  
**TT:** I have to go do something for my mother, so I’ll be gone for a while.  
**TT:** Again, I’m no expert on your situation, so what I’m saying is certainly not necessarily true, but do think about it. I’ll talk to you later.  
**GG:** ok  
**GG:** thanks 

~ 

The distant chopping of helicopter blades didn’t give her the same rush of excitement it used to—dread pooled in the pit of her gut instead. She got up and out of bed anyway. It would be nice, she tried to convince herself, to see her grandfather regardless. To see anyone, period, actually, but it wasn’t as if there was anyone else to talk to. They were family. He was the only family she had left.  
She took her sweet time on the transportalizer and walking down the hallway, the photographs of him staring her down like she was the enemy he was sniping. Even so, the trip seemed so much shorter than it had before—partially because she didn’t want to see him, and partially because she’d been here so long that everything had just grown old. Still, she made it out in time to see the helicopter overhead in its usual dramatic fashion. It was spinning wildly, doing loop-de-loops and figure eights and then— 

—spiraling down, down, down, cumulonimbus-grey fumes pouring out of the engine and the doors and windshield that was steam or smoke or something deadly, and something was very, very wrong. She tried to scream, but her vocal cords refused to cooperate; when she tried to reach out, she found herself frozen in place, unable to do anything but watch as her grandfather’s helicopter collided with the ground nose-first. 

All her senses told her to run to him and fix him up, let him know that it was going to be okay, they were going to be okay, but she couldn’t move. She was out of breath, for some reason—that was weird, she hadn’t even been running or hunting or anything, what was going on? Reaching up—finally, her limbs conceded to her—she found her neck. Her throat felt like it was closing in on itself. When she inhaled, everything just hurt worse, scratching deep lines in the already dry, abrasive flesh. Something liquid welled under the skin of her eyelids. She tried to blink it back and ignore it as she always did, but she couldn’t. He was the only family she had left, and now he was… 

She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to say anything. Instead, she turned her back to the still-smouldering patch of earth and metal and went back to bed. 

When she finally worked up the guts to approach the site of the incident in the morning, the bracelet was shattered on the helicopter’s floor. 

~ 

**gardenGnostic [GG]** opened memo on board **COOL KIDZ INCORPORATED**.  
**GG:** hey rose? whats the english translation for yu?  
**TT:** I don't speak Mandarin, but if my knowledge of Mandarin is sufficient, there are multiple “yu”s.  
**TT:** At least nine, according to Google.  
**GG:** oh right  
**TT:** Can you send the character?  
**GG:** 玉  
**TT:** If my translator is worth anything, that’s the word for jade, as in the gemstone.  
**GG:** is it kind of green and white and not entirely see-through?  
**TT:** I believe so.  
**GG:** ok, thanks :)  
**TT:** Of course.  
**GG:** i think...i might start going by jade? it’s a nice name but i’m not sure  
**TT:** It can be quite nerve-wracking to make a decision like that, but I’m glad you spoke up. Let us know if you need anything else changed.  
**TT:** And for what it’s worth, I think Jade is a nice name, too.  
**GT:** oh hi, jade! you haven’t been on in a while, i was starting to get pretty worried.  
**GG:** oh :o sorry for making you worry john!  
**GT:** it’s fine! that’s what we’re here for anyway. i wouldn’t be your friend if i didn’t worry about you. my dad is always worrying about me, but i know that’s just how he shows love.  
**GT:** how have you been holding up since what happened?  
**GG:** ok. i started stuffing his body today  
**TG:** hey what the fuck does that mean  
**GG:** do you know what taxidermy is?  
**TG:** is that what youre doing to your grandpa  
**TG:** are you fucking taxidermying him  
**GG:** do you not do that for your family?  
**TG:** no jesus christ  
**TT:** Jade, I’m glad to see you utilizing a healthy coping mechanism like we discussed.  
**GG:** mhm!!  
**GG:** it still hurts a lot to see him like that, you know? he was always so sprightly and sunny and now he’ll have to stay here forever  
**GG:** but i think i’m getting better 

~ 

She finished preserving her grandfather’s body a few weeks later and set it by the mantle. The shards of the bracelet were tucked safely into the finished product. It hadn’t helped him much, seeing as it couldn’t protect him from the crash or prevent the crash from ever happening, but it couldn’t hurt for him to have it. At the very least, he could enjoy some earthly beauty from beyond the grave, a reminder of his adventures, however true or untrue his stories may have been. 

She’d wanted to keep it initially and gotten some superglue to put it back together, but the pieces were too small to be put back in place. Either way, she didn’t need it. She was Jade already. And even though he may not have recognized it, she deserved a little bit of luck, even if she had to be her own. 


End file.
